This summer, our car, the one we drove approximately three thousand miles from Florida to the Pacific Northwest, caught on fire less than one month before our cross-country road trip. To say R and I were shitting bricks when we found out doesn’t begin to explain it as being able to drive the car, loaded with our stuff, was instrumental in our moving plan. The saddest thing is that we had absolutely nothing to do with the aforementioned car fire (Billy Joel jokes: optional but not encouraged), as we were approximately 4161 miles away from our car and had been for several weeks. How did it catch on fire? That’s a damn fine question, but I’m going to tell the story as it unfolded to us.

As I’ve mentioned before, after R and I quit our jobs we took some time to dick around in Europe. Lots of fun, but I digress. Because we’re cheap and R’s family lives within driving distance of an airport we could fly out of, we left our car with his dad for the duration of our trip in order to avoid the absolutely exorbitant long-term parking fees at the airport. We’d left it in the front yard with a request to drive it once a week or so to keep things in working order.

About a week before we got on a plane to return Stateside, we received a rather cryptic e-mail from R’s dad, asking for R to call as soon as possible because there were “issues to discuss.” Oh fuck. Not an e-mail you want to receive when you’re cell-less in a foreign country, staying in a hostel with no phone line. R got in touch with his dad from a payphone about a five minute walk from our hostel, which basically screwed him out of about $20 in equivalent currency for about two minutes of phone time. The two minutes he got essentially amounted to the phone equivalent of “oh hay your car was aflame everything’s fine kthanxsbye” while the meter showing him how much time he had left ticked down like something out of a bomb scene in an action movie.

We spent the remaining week away from home panicking and wondering what the fuck had happened. Naturally, once we were back in the country we decided to grill his poor mother* when she picked us up at the airport in the middle of the night (bless her) but no information was forthcoming. Finally, the next day, we got the answer: rats.

Apparently our request to drive the car once a week or so had been postponed – which I can’t really blame R’s dad for in the slightest, I mean he was letting us use his yard as a fucking parking lot – and, during the three or four weeks of complete stationariness (made up word, what of it), some rats had decided to make a fucking pine needle nest on top of the exhaust manifold. No big deal, until R’s dad decided to (generously) take our car into the shop for a quick once-over.

This is the point where people who have no idea what an exhaust manifold is (a category which included me until this little indecent) go “huh?” and people who do know what an exhaust manifold is go “oh, motherfucker, it survived?”

You see, the exhaust manifold is a part of the engine that collects the exhaust gasses which form when your engine is running. While I don’t precisely know what this means as I’m car-stupid,** the best I can explain it is a) that means it drains all the fumes from the cylinders after they fire and b) it’s really, really fucking hot. Like, one of the hottest parts of your car hot. Set-a-rat’s-nest-aflame hot.*** Yeah.

Luckily for us, R’s dad rolled into the mechanic’s practically at the same time the car caught on fire and one of the mechanics happened to be crossing the parking lot with a fire extinguisher. So really, only some minor damage done, which R’s dad kindly took care of as he felt like complete shit about the whole thing.**** And yes, in spite of the damage, we drove the damned thing cross country two weeks later.

But I won’t pretend we didn’t jump at small, under-hood noises.

Editorial Notes:

If I’m not around, it’s because I’m a) working, b) filling out job applications, or c) watching copious amounts of Battlestar Galactica (I’m on season three, don’t fucking spoil it for me).***** Pick which one you think is more likely. (Hint: maybe not a or b.) Furthermore, note that I can almost forgive Stephanie Meyer for the existence of Twilight because it gave someone the opportunity to make this joke.

Although this has nothing to do with this post, I’d like to thank onwindydays for linking to one of my several posts about spam – you can check out his most ridiculous, nonsensical spam comment here. It is insanely long.

I’d also like to say a big thank you to Adrienne Schmadrienne over at Healthy Takeover for nominating me for the 7×7 Link. Though I’m not participating I greatly appreciate it. (Also, I personally love this post of hers, as someone who dealt with Tebowmania near-daily for four years.) Ah hell I throw one link out there: check out eggton, because she’s funny, her recipes look good and she has a super-cute dog. Thanks Adrienne!

I’d also like to take a moment to let you all know that I got tipped a chocolate bar at work the other day. What the fuck? I mean, I’ve been looking for an excuse to make chocolate chip cookies, but part of me could not help wondering if the bar had been poisoned. I think that’s years of my mom ranting about razor blades in Halloween candy rearing up. I get it from somewhere, people.

Lastly, that’s six (count ’em!) asterisked addenda. My personal challenge to myself to have as many of them as possible is going to make my posts walls of asterisks soon enough!

* One should note at this point that R’s parents have been divorced for nigh on two decades, so really what the fuck were we thinking?
** Any “typical female” jokes and swear to god I’ll sterilize you. Some goes for snide comments on anything I say about not giving a flying fuck about sports.
*** I also know some of you are probably wondering what happened to the rats. Well – I’ll just say you can probably figure that one out on your own cause it was a fire. Before you wonder why I’m not saying “oh, the poor creatures,” I like rats, I used to have pet rats, but frankly, those little nest-building assholes started it.
**** Nevermind that R was planning on getting into the car to go get some motor oil as soon as we got home, which would have resulted in the car catching on fire without a fire extinguisher handy. At this point, I almost consider it a favor from R’s dad.
***** So I know people talk a lot about how there are completely unrealistic physical expectations for women in mass media, and I totally agree, but can we just note that Apollo spends like one T.V. year putting on about thirty or forty pounds (er, actually an hour in makeup putting on bad prosthetics) and then all of two episodes going from flabby to ripped again? I know the actor himself didn’t gain the weight, but still: what’s up with that, Lee? You ‘roidin?******
****** Can we also talk about how all the Cylon women in BSG are really hot and all the Cylon men not at all? One is a ridden-hard-and-put-away-wet 70-year-old, two are just generic not terribly attractive dudes, and one looks like Kevin Spacey’s (more) evil twin. Not cool, BSG.

The year is coming to a close, and I’ve had a pretty eventful year. Although I’m not one to do a bunch of year-end commemoration in either internet or real life, this year’s been big enough and the shit I’ve done has been stupid enough that I thought it would be nice to recap some of the awesome. Without further ado: the five ill-advised but awesome things I did in 2011.

1. I quit my job

I liked my co-workers and the actual work I did, but ultimately – I was not a happy camper on the career path I was on or in the place I was living. So I did the (incredibly stupid) thing and quit one day. I tried to give as much time to my employer as possible (I think I gave two months’ notice), but still: I needed to get the fuck out of there. This had the potential to be really awesome or really not-awesome, but it’s turned out to be pretty awesome. I may be slowly draining away all the money I worked hard for on an ill-advised leap of faith, but dammit, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. That’s what counts, right?*

2. I left the US for the first time

My parents did not vacation longer than a half-day’s drive for most of my childhood. For obvious reasons, really – plane tickets are expensive and driving with kids in the car fucking blows. But the end result of not traveling anywhere further than about 500 miles away means I grew up with a wicked case of unsatisfied travel lust. After quitting my job, I fucked off to another continent for a little over a month. This wouldn’t have been so bad had I stuck to the developing world, but I chose to go to Europe, effectively draining my bank account about five times faster than, say, Thailand would have. Nevertheless, it was fucking awesome. A month long vacation? Highly recommended. Then again, seeing how I’m still pretty much unemployed every day is like a vacation to me, so I technically hit the six-month vacation mark a few days ago.**

3. I moved across the country, to a city I’d never been to, with no job lined up

Look, this was really fucking stupid and if I pull this one off without lasting damage to my credit report or sanity, I’m the coolest motherfucker that ever lived. But seriously, I lived in central Florida. You ever been to central Florida? It’s the asshole of the universe. Before you say “But MJ! Rural Alabama exists!” just trust me, I’ve seen rural Alabama. It’s got nothing on central Florida. By comparison, my new city (which I think is objectively awesome) blows every other place I’ve lived out of the water. Plus, I like having a real winter of sorts, and the food is amazing. Yes: weather and food. These are the incredibly relevant things you should consider when planning to uproot your life.

4. I bought a sweet pair of boots

I know what you’re thinking: why is this ill-advised? Well, when you’re planning on quitting your job, screwing around on the most expensive continent for a month, and then moving your shit cross country with no job lined up, dropping a hefty chunk of change on a new pair of boots is basically the last thing you need to do. You need every penny, and good boots? They’re expensive. However, I did my research, got an awesome pair, and now my feet are nice, toasty and dry in spite of the winter. This has made a big enough impact in my quality of life that it makes the list, no matter how underwhelming it may be to you.

5. I mailed my stuff across the country, rather than do the U-Haul thing

Credit for this idea actually goes to R.,*** who did most of the moving-our-crap research. USPS and FedEx, super cheap, to a short-term storage unit. What could possibly go wrong? Oh yeah – getting lost in the mail, water damage, crazy postal-employee-damage, stupid storage unit employee damage, you name it. Frankly, the whole idea is kind of Baker-act worthy, but damn. Do you know how much it costs to move? And driving a moving truck: fuck that. With the money we saved we could have replaced the shit that broke or got damaged easy, so I signed up. And we only had about three things, all minor, break.

We did do one smart thing and kept our valuables in the car, where (in theory) they would have been safer. However, our car got accidentally set on fire while we were undergoing Ill-Advised But Awesome Thing #2,**** so although we’d moved everything out of the car prior to leaving the country when we loaded up and hit the road***** we were pretty nervous. But whatever, we and our stuff made it intact to our final destination.

So that’s it. I’ve had an awesome year, filled with a bunch of dumb shit that miraculously worked out in my favor. Let’s see how long my luck holds out, shall we?

*Check back with me in six months when I’m lamenting my lack of job and money, and see how I feel about it then.
**Suck it, working people, with your jobs and your money! I can sit around in my underwear all day and drink at noon! Woooo!
*** Before anyone asks, yes R. was present on the Eurotrip and really all the awesome things with the sole exception of Number 4. What can I say, the man is not a shoe-shopper.
**** Yes, really, actually on fire. Story for another time.
***** Yes, we really, actually drove a car that had recently been aflame across an entire continent. Before you start asking what’s wrong with me, re-read this post and ask yourself if it’s really worth delving that deep into my psyche.

This is the first Christmas I’ve spent not surrounded by multiple members of my crazy but well-loved family, so I thought it would be a good idea to chronicle my five favorite non-family related things about Christmas. Plus, with the hours I’ve put in lately I know I’ve been a bit bitter about the season, so I think this will do me some good.

1. Christmas decorations

I love love love Christmas decorations. This was our first year decorating our own tree, and even though we were using hand-me-down ornaments and it wasn’t exactly what I would have done had I been able to purchase what I wanted, I’m still very happy with having my own tree. The smell of pine is amazing. I also can’t think of anything nicer than Christmas lights on a cold night.

2. Cookies!

Everyone and their mother has sent us Christmas cookies and they are awesome. Shortbread, piecrust, sandwich, drop – I don’t care, I’ll eat them all. And since R. is not a big sweets person, I pretty much get to.

3. No obligations

After 25 Christmases of needing to be somewhere at least 2 hours away from where I currently lived, it’s nice to not have to go anywhere. Yep, I’ll miss seeing my family, but I’ll also enjoy having an excuse to sit around the house and play with whatever Santa brings.

4. Food

I already hit on the cookies, but oh man, Christmas is such a good excuse to eat good food. Last night R. made me filet with mushrooms and potatoes and an entire bottle of Bordeaux. We’re thinking lamb for Christmas dinner.

5. The weather

Remarkably, we’ve had cold but sunny weather for the past few weeks, and I’ve been enjoying it. It’s really amazing how much more Christmassy everything feels when then temperature is not seventy-odd degrees. It looks like our no-rain streak will be breaking on Christmas day, but that’s fine by me since I’ve got fuck-all to do.

So now I’m going to do the thing I never do just because it’s almost Christmas – ask lame questions at the end of the post. Do you guys have favorite non-family things going on right now? How do you spend the holidays if you don’t travel or have family visit?

It’s that time of year again: snow, colored lights, cheerful songs, lots of food, and general misery. We’ve already passed the gateway drug, Thanksgiving, but there are still several holidays coming up to torture us all. With that in mind, I present the Handy Dandy Guide: Surviving the Holidays, in which we’ll explore some common problems and my solution for not letting them wreck your holiday spirit.

Problem: You hate your in-laws

Your mother-in-law won’t stop criticizing you, your father-in-law thinks your spouse is too good for you, your husband’s racist grandmother won’t stop telling you how pleased she is her grandson married a good (read: blonde) woman, and your sister-in-law is sickeningly fecund and won’t control the brats. We’ve all been there. Remember: these people are your spouse’s family. They share genetics. Which means, by proxy, your spouse is totally responsible for all of their bullshit. Whenever someone pisses you off, simply turn around and take it out on your better half. They’re too busy being pissed off at their mom’s incessant quest for another grandkid to really pay too much attention anyway. Besides, you could be spending the holidays with your family, and we all know that would be worse. You have to pretend to like them.

Problem: There’s an argument during dinner

Everyone has it happen at some point. The conversation is strained but chipper, until that one crazy uncle pops out with something like the Mexican Olympics* joke and the table goes quiet. Within five minutes, someone’s calling someone else a racist and half of the family is revealing why they, too, dislike an entire ethnic group based on something someone like Joe Arpaio** said once. Take a deep breath, you’ll get through this one. The first step is to go fix yourself a drink, because god knows you need it dealing with these assholes. The second is to sit back and not get angry yourself – after all, they taint your spouse’s genetics, not yours. The third is to steadily, quietly feed the argument with well-placed comments (“So tell me, Aunt Maude, what do you think of welfare?”) because this is the closest thing to entertainment you’ll get all night.

Problem: You recently had a death in the family

This is a pretty easy one to deal with, actually. Never mention your loved one and cry at awkward moments. This puts everyone at ease and ensures some good old-fashioned holiday fun, especially if you start to sob during the third round of Christmas Pictionary.

Problem: You need to go shopping on Christmas Eve

First of all, remember that there is absolutely no reason that any store should be out of anything you want on Christmas Eve. Truly, if they say they are, the employees are just lying to spite you. Yell, scream, threaten legal action, demand a manager. Make them call every single store in the tri-county area to find that toy little Bobby has his heart set on. When it turns out to be a five-mile drive away, inform the store clerk how bad traffic is. I mean, these jokers are working on Christmas Eve (how cushy is that, getting out of the Christmas prep!), they haven’t had to drive around in this shit all day.

Secondly, remember that you don’t have to take any shit from other customers. Those procrastinating douchebags are probably unemployed, anyway, and don’t deserve the toy you waited until the last minute to get. After all, they had all this time while you were working. I mean, with record unemployment, you’d think that those who aren’t good enough to work would spend their daylight hours doing something useful like getting their Christmas shopping done, right? It’s not like they need to wait until everything is marked down ten percent, you’ve got that vacation to Miami you’re saving for. The ten dollars will make a difference in your travel fund, and what’s it doing for them? Paying for a meal?

Third, remember that all the good parking spots are at the front of the mall, where the complementary valet parking is. That’s why all the cars are circling there. Join the line, it’ll only be a few minutes.

Problem: You’re trying to lose some weight

We’ve all been there: the mad, last-month rush to lose the ten pounds you swore you’d lose before New Year’s. Unfortunately for you, there’s a huge amount of good food and a general encouragement of binge eating. Fortunately for you, there’s also alcohol. Tis’ the season to be shitfaced, and the bonus of getting staggeringly drunk is the staggeringly drunken vomiting you’ll do. Besides, if you’re drinking, no one can accuse you of bulimia.***

Problem: You’re attending a New Year’s party by yourself

You’re in luck, New Year’s parties are great places to meet people. It’s a good time to remember that age-old adage: when in doubt, drink til you pass out.**** It’s a great idea that won’t result in you being robbed or assaulted, I promise. Make sure you don’t eat anything before the party and go straight for the vodka. Fuck that “glass of water for every drink” bullshit, getting completely wasted is easier if you’re dehydrated. Remember: slurring and falling over? Completely hot. Plus, every woman knows that walking while wearing a short skirt and high heels is easier and more alluring when plastered.

Problem: You’re spending the holidays alone

You’ve just moved, you’re too poor to go home, or all of your family is dead. In that case, party time. Pick yourself up a box of Franzia, a new video game (I hear Skyrim is awesome), and a take-out pizza. You lucky chucklefuck.

This concludes the Handy Dandy Guide: Surviving the Holidays. We hope these tips and tricks help you get through this dark, family-and-forced-joy infested time of year.

**Just Google, then be in awe that that man hasn’t been imprisoned yet.

***Although I tried to be really over the top with the ridiculous offensiveness of this suggestion so my sarcasm would be obvious, I still feel compelled to say that this is a terrible idea, no one should actually do it, and if you thought it was a good idea you should probably speak with a medical professional. Also, if you’re drinking til you puke and not eating anything, yes, everyone thinks you have a problem either with alcohol or ED. Sorry, drunkorexics, you’re not fooling people.

****Again, I should think my sarcasm would be obvious, but just in case: please don’t drink til you pass out, especially not if you’re attending a party alone. It’s at the very least a one-way ticket to Hangover Land, and if you’re unlucky you might pass through Robbers’ Town and Sexual Assaultville on the way. No, not a drunk’s fault if they’re assaulted or robbed, but being in at least partial control of your faculties can help you avoid A Situation***** so be wise especially when alone.

*****Either the state of being in a situation, or the jackass from Jersey Shore. You pick. I think sobriety might actually be like Kryptonite to him.

Since it was Thanksgiving yesterday and I had the holiday spirits* I figured I’d write a quick Five Things on something I’m happy about. Unfortunately, I’m a snarky little cuss so I’m going to be thankful for moving the fuck out of the South. Enjoy.

1. The weather

Yes, the Pacific Northwest is rainy and chilly, but you know what that beats? Nine months of 90-plus degree weather and 80 percent humidity. Seriously, people who say shit like, “oh, I’d just looooove it to be summer all the time” need to visit central Florida in August and go about a normal day. You know, commute in work clothes (I was a cyclist, it sucked) in the insufferable heat punctuated by brief, unpredictable, hot thunderstorms and the period after the thunderstorm which can only be described as swampy. Walk outside to get your lunch and immediately start to sweat. Start feeling sick because every time you leave the overly-air-conditioned indoors you sweat, only to freeze once you’ve walked inside. Ruin every single light colored t-shirt you own with horrific pit-stains, in spite of the fact that you wear industrial strength deodorant. Roast every time you get into your car, because the temperature climbs to over 120 inside, even in the shade, every day between March and November. Sit in 85 degree heat in your house while paying $400 per month on your electricity because your air conditioner sucks and your landlord won’t replace it. I can keep going here, people. Newsflash: when you’re not at the beach or the pool all day, high heat and humidity absolutely suck. And before everyone starts telling me I haven’t seen snow yet, I’m not an idiot. I moved to a place where it snows like four days a year, not fucking Chicago. I like rain, I like the cold, but I’m not a dumbass and I didn’t have to grow up with it to know shoveling snow sucks and that -5 degrees without the windchill factored in is just as awful as 100 or more.

2. It’s so pretty

I love fir trees. People here actually like to have lots of trees around them. I live on a tree-lined street in the middle of a city. The trees change colors in autumn! There are mountains! Excuse me, but I think I need to stop this particular line of reasoning because I’m starting to freak out about the beauty of it all. Suffice to say: absolutely gorgeously gorgeous. But no gorges. Come on, you knew that was coming.

3. My job

Yes, it’s temporary. Yes, it’s retail. Yes, I’m probably fucking up royally as I have zero retail experience. But I’m enjoying it more than I liked my ludicrously high-paying desk job that killed my soul.** I’d rather do something that is fun and makes the day pass quickly than sit at a desk and beat my head against a wall in the name of a career path any day. Hopefully one day I’ll have a desk job that I like similarly (I’ve had one before, it was amazing and right up my alley), but for now, with the economy as it is, I’m glad I’m doing something that I actually don’t mind doing each day even if it’s a stop-gap measure. Plus, having a thirty second commute is blissful.

But seriously, I hope I haven’t rung too many things up incorrectly. What a bitch that will be come holiday returns – I’d be immediately banned from the store.

4. What it’s done to my relationship

R. and I have been together for a very long time. We never got married, and even though we’ve lived together for a long time we moved in at a young enough age that we were still very much in the college-relationship stage of things for a while after even that step. The past few years, we’ve planned an international adventure, moved cross country, merged bank accounts and just generally grown as a couple. It’s sucked hard at times, and we’ve both been close to throwing the towel in but really: a move, a month-long trip to a continent we’d never been to, a sudden death in the immediate family, being jobless together, and completely giving up on the path we’d been set on in the space of about a year and a half, plus a bunch of other shit I won’t even get into? Show me the relationship that won’t test. We’re better even now for it, and will hopefully, like fine wine, continue to get better as years go by. Most of the growth and the decisions were spurred by the decision that we needed to move. So, I’m glad about that, as tough as some moments have been. Plus, you know, sex in hotel rooms is always fun.

5. Distance

I love my family, very much. I have fond memories of my childhood. This does not mean I have any desire to ever live in or near the town I grew up in, ever again. (Jesus Christ, what a depressing thought.) It does not mean I need to see my family every few days to maintain a meaningful connection with them. It does not mean that I don’t think I’m better off somewhere else. I’ve had quite a few people raise eyebrows at me – telling me I’d miss my family, the place I grew up, that “things would be different,” etc. And yes, I’ve missed my family. I’ve missed the familiarity of the places I knew. I know things are different now. But more than that, I am very happy. I returned to my hometown and the town I went to college in a few weeks ago. I wasn’t sad to leave. I honestly had no pangs of regret about moving or any wish I could stay. It’s a place I visit now, and I will visit, but in truth I’d mentally moved on years and years before physically moving. My body has caught up with my brain, and that’s a good thing. I feel a little more together, for lack of a better phrase, because part of my brain isn’t constantly thinking about how much I hate my surroundings and how much I’d like to move on. And that makes the move worth the trials, the planning, and all the uncertainty I faced then and now. So, in short, I’m still really, really glad I had the balls to move.

Thanks to everyone who has been reading – I appreciate it. Hope your Thanksgiving was as wonderful and food-filled as mine, whether you were flying solo or at a fifty-person gathering. Enjoy Black Friday, however you do it. I totally managed to not be scheduled to work today, so I’m going to hole up and pretend the mass-consumer madness isn’t happening.

So, I spent a week in Florida. It was nice, as we got to see a variety of family and attended a good friend’s wedding, but since I’m recovering from getting in at one am Pacific after starting the journey at ten am Eastern, I’m phoning it in with a list format.

1. Casual weddings are awesome

I attended my best friend’s super-casual wedding. I wore jeans. It was amazing. Note to all getting married: ditch the effing dress code and go casual. Everyone is happier that way.

Also, the person officiating the wedding was closely related to a relatively well-known actor and looked and sounded just like him. It was eerie. A bunch of people commented on it without knowing they were related, and my friend told me and a few others quietly with the caveat of “we don’t mention it because [officiant] is, you know, a lot more than the [relation] of [actor].” (He was a nice guy and had a wonderful ceremony planned.)

2. Hangry is awful when traveling

R. gets a raging case of the hangries* every few days because he doesn’t eat unless he notices he’s starving. This is a major problem when we travel, because hello not having breakfast and eating nothing but airplane food. By the end of just about every flight I’m ready to kill. I should start bringing juice boxes and Clif bars, like the parents of toddlers. Can you even bring a juice box on a plane? I’m imagining that conversation with the TSA agent: “No, I don’t have a toddler, but trust me, he acts like one when his blood sugar drops.”

3. Traveling with weird food is fun

R.’s dad gave us some home made dried fruit and jerky to take home with us. We went carry-on, so we stuck the vacuum-sealed bags in our luggage and hoped no one would care. While the bag was going through the x-ray machine, R. heard one TSA agent whisper incredulously, “Holy crap, is that steak?” Considering the shit TSA sees on a daily basis, that guy had to be new.

4. LAX: You suck

LAX is under construction. I don’t know if this has been going on for a while (it’s only my second time in LAX, and the first time it was our final destination so we didn’t have to deal with moving gates) but my god, what a clusterfuck. We actually had to take buses between the gates, which cut our wonderful two-hour dinner break to a frantic, 30 minutes to eat at Burger King break. See also: hangriness.

5. Gas

Why is it when people write about traveling, they never mention the fact that the airplane could possibly be kept aloft by the sheer amount of farting that goes on in air? Between the bad food, fizzy beverages, and expansion of intestinal gasses caused by high altitude, air carriers should probably look into this as an alternative source of lift. I’m also convinced this is why planes smell the way they do. Not precisely like a toilet, but very, very lived-in.

6. Flight phobia and me

So, I’m not a great flier. I have anxiety and I don’t like the idea of suddenly falling thousands of feet to a fiery death, but I deal with it because I know logically I stand less of a chance of dying in an aircraft than winning the lottery.** As a result, I can usually self-soothe*** enough to chill the fuck out, except for one major occurrence: takeoff or landing in a storm. I’m cool with turbulence in air, I’m good with clouds, but the buffeting feeling caused by a storm while hurtling towards a runway gives me the screaming mimis every time. Hartford airport is like this every damned time I fly through it. Now that I live in the glorious Pacific Northwest, I’m doomed to this just about every time I get on a plane between September and June. Motherfucker. Good thing I don’t plan on too many cross-country flights.

7. Direct flight myths

Speaking of cross-country flights, there is supposedly a direct flight from the city I live in to the city my in-laws live in. I cannot find this flight, but desperately want to. R. and I have taken to referring to it as the Bigfoot of American airline travel. I just hope that if we do find it, the plane isn’t blurry.****

So the past few days have been a weird, not-so-awesome blur. It’s a strange thing that seems to happen when I’m unemployed, because when you’re working you at least have weekends to break up the time. Unemployment makes me look up and go “What? It’s Thursday? But wasn’t Sunday yesterday?” And then there’s the sinking feeling that all that time passed without you getting a job and the life, it just drains out of you.

As a result, I have little to nothing in the way of wit, insight or wisdom for this page at the moment.* So, instead, I’m list-formatting this shit and we’ll be back on a Five Things tomorrow. We’ll pretend this week never happened, okay?

Bank of America, you make me worry

So I recently got a new credit card from Bank of America. Did I open another account? No. Apparently they’re “concerned about security” with several accounts (one of which is mine! Joy!) and have closed them and re-opened exact copies under different account numbers. This is not insipiring my confidence, Bank of America. I mean, yes, I’m glad you’re being careful, but still. Little nerve wracking. Especially since I have regular bank accounts with you and you did nothing to reassure me that those were okay, even though they’re tied to the credit card. Jesus.

Cooking is lame

I tried and failed to make pain au chocolat. For those of you unfamiliar, pain au chocolate is easily the worst thing that can ever happen to you in Paris. Not because it’s bad, oh no. It’s so fucking good, that’s the problem. Flaky croissant dough wrapped around dark chocolate. The big problem? Getting a good version of it in the US when you have funky reactions to soy is almost impossible. You have to make your own, which ain’t easy. I used puff pastry for my last batch, but I think I’m actually going to need to make real croissant dough. That’s an utter nightmare. I made croissants once when I was 14, and they were good but the butter leaked out freaking everywhere. I’m not looking forward to a repeat.

Travel at the worst time

Just when it’s starting to get pleasantly cold, I’m returning to the South for a week. I do not like plane travel, Sam I Am, however I’m sure the trip will be nice. This means I will be absent from this space for about 7 days starting on Wednesday. Don’t leave me, please!

*We’re pretending these are all qualities I have normally. Don’t burst my bubble.